


I Choose You

by Expectopatronum28



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Incomplete flashbacks, M/M, Past and Present
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-29
Updated: 2018-04-29
Packaged: 2019-04-29 08:22:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,481
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14468697
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Expectopatronum28/pseuds/Expectopatronum28
Summary: “You still love me?” Sid asks, eyes softening.





	I Choose You

_______

_Now_

Sid writhes in his lap; his trembling palms cup Claude’s cheeks as blunt fingernails gently card through his grainy beard. Tilting his face up that extra inch, Claude mindlessly chases Sid’s lips again, his mouth slack and his brain floating in outer space.

Sid whines, turning his face away after a few kisses, his breathing erratic. Claude closes his lips over the sharp line of Sid’s jaw instead, mouthing the coarse hairs and sweaty skin as his hold on Sid’s waist tightens.

It feels the same as it always did.

_____

_June 2007_

Claude sips on a beer that somehow found its way in his ill-advised hands; his back rests against the rowdy bar. He scans the room.

The lonely boy in the booth catches his eye; a large book and scattered loose leaf paper cover the table.

Claude stifles a laugh, looks away – and then back again.

The guy’s thick hair sticks out in tufts, in desperate need of some spit – or hair gel; his clothes are a preppy disaster from what Claude can see. A loose tie dangles around his collar, too big and ugly as sin. His tongue sticks out as he scribbles furiously, as if his stream of consciousness is about to evaporate. His gaze – like clockwork – falls towards the entrance every few minutes, his expression anxious.

Claude’s salacious intentions take over.

Flipping his cap backwards, he ditches his lukewarm beer and saunters over, quietly sliding into the booth across from him.

“Hey gorgeous” he purrs, licking his lips.

The guy’s eyes snap up; he gives Claude a wide-eyed, _deer in the headlights_ stare, which – after a beat – is replaced by a frown. Claude figures his lewdness has probably registered.

“I don’t.. I’m not interested” he tells Claude, face stern.

Claude dumbly stares back as the affronted look thrown his way sticks, like chewing gum lodged underneath a desk and Claude loses it, smothering his laughter with a palm.

_God, he’s such an imbecile._

The silence from the across the booth is deafening. 

Claude coughs away the remnants of his rude outburst – he knows he looks like a jackass. Before he can attempt an apology, two people approach the booth.

“Hey, Sid” the man says; he turns his attention to Claude, eyebrows raised.

_Sid_

“Hey, dad. Hi, mom” he replies, looking up.

_Shit_

Claude quickly shimmies his way out of the booth.

“Hi. Sorry, I was just asking Sid here about a class project” Claude bullshits, gesturing to the strewn papers while trying _– and failing_ – to gauge the name of the textbook lying on the table.

“Oh, no problem dear” the woman – Sid’s mom? – chimes in, trying her best to give him a subtle once over that’s not subtle at all. Claude bites his lip, looks away.

God, he needed to get the fuck out of here and get another drink in him.

“Uh, I should get going,” Claude offers. “It was nice to meet you.” His eyes land on Sid,  “And uh, thanks Sid.”

He quickly retreats from the table. When he surmises a safe enough gap, he chances a glance back over his shoulder: the same sour look greets him, as if the dude caught Claude pissing in his drink.

 _Jeez_.

_____

Claude’s legs are sprawled across the duvet of his bed; his back rests against the wooden headboard as Sid rides him; thick thighs stretched over his own. Sid’s ragged, heartfelt moans fill the room; still fill Claude’s heart with a burning fire

Claude’s hands drift up; he slides them underneath Sid’s armpits, latching them up and over the broad shoulders above him. Claude tucks his face underneath Sid’s chin, resting his forehead against Sid’s collarbone; his glazed eyes flicker down as he watches his cock disappear into Sid’s body over and over again; the hypnotic sight exalts the jolts of spine-tingling pleasure all the way to Claude’s toes. It’s all so much, _too much_.  

He squeezes his eyes shut.

_____

_January 2008_

The tacky strobe lights flash, the music blares; Claude’s body vibrates with it. He blows in Sid’s ear, who fidgets in his lap, giggling.

He takes Sid by the hand, twines their fingers as he leads them onto the smoke-filled dance floor.

"Claude, no!” Sid half shouts, half whines over the crowd; he tries to yank his hand from Claude’s grip.

“C’mon, baby” Claude smiles, his eyes full of tenderness; he reels Sid in.

“You’re drunk” Sid retaliates.

Claude crowds Sid from behind, snakes his arms around his waist; hooks his chin over Sid’s shoulder.

Sid honks a laugh and places his arms over Claude’s; squeezes his hands, turns his head to give him a chaste kiss.

They sway to the beat.

_____

Sid’s big hands begin to card through his hair and grip tight, forcing Claude to look up once more: hazel eyes meet brown as Sid crashes his lips against Claude’s, clumsily licking into his mouth. He angles Claude’s face and works the flat of his tongue in full strokes over the bristles of his beard; nuzzles his neck, licks his ear.  

Claude huffs a laugh, “I’m not a popsicle.”

Sid ignores him and continues to sloppily lick all over.

_____

_February 2009_

“Here?” Claude asks.

“Yup.”

Claude straightens the ruler and streaks Sid’s pencil across the sheet, producing a neat line.

Sid beams. “Perfect.”

They sit together against the bedframe. Dusk approaches as the cluster of trees outside Claude’s window whisper in the breeze. Sid’s tucked into the V of his legs, his textbook dangling from his lap as he works. Claude’s face is pressed into the curve of Sid’s neck as he peppers kisses up and down the stretch of delicate skin. Sid lets his head fall back with a sigh; Claude hides a smile in Sid’s hair. 

Laughter suddenly echoes in the hallway – _Claude’s face clouds._

“Fuck. I figured they’d be out til’ late” Claude says, “Just ignore ‘em.”

His bedroom door flies open, and Kurtis – Claude’s roommate – stares drunkenly at them. Skeeter sheepishly looms behind him.

Kurtis staggers into the room and sits at the edge of the bed. His eyes are bloodshot. He looks right at Sid and smiles big: “Well. Well. Well. What do we have here?” He sing songs in a lazy drawl. 

Sid dismisses him and continues to diligently write, though Claude feels his shoulders tense – his pencil clenched a little too tightly around shaky fingers.

“What’re you two doin’?” Kurtis slurs.

“Nothing” Claude tells him; his arms tighten around Sid as he straightens up, “Skeet, can you get him outta here?”

“Hi there, Sid.”

Sid looks up at him, his jaw set: “Hi.” Kurtis reaches over and tugs on Sid’s textbook – Sid slaps his hand away.

Kurtis lets out a low, obnoxious whistle, “Whooooo. He’s a feisty one eh, G?”

“Kurt. Come on. Get out of here.” Claude tells him.

“You’re a little tease, ain’t ya?” he tsks, admonishing Sid; his glassy eyes turn to Claude, the corners of his mouth upturned in a lecherous grin, “Still not gettin’ any, G?”

Claude feels Sid stiffen in his arms. His temper flares and his patience leaves him in a swift rush: “Get the fuck out!”

“Come on, Kurt. Leave them alone” Skeeter placates; he places a palm over Kurt’s shoulder.

Kurt chuckles as he stands and raises his hands, gesturing surrender – right before he _lunges_ ; he cuffs Sid’s ankle and viciously hauls him down to the foot of the bed. Sid lets out a pained cry, scrambles back against the sheets. Claude’s vision _whites_ at the sight as he launches himself onto Kurtis – “You piece of _fucking_ shit!”

Claude’s fist slams into Kurtis’ chin, knocking him backwards. He rocks him with another punch – right to the jaw; Claude’s eyes blaze as he digs his fingers into Kurtis’ flesh. Sid’s frightened shouts boom in his ears.

“Fuck, Claude!” Skeeter screeches; he rushes Claude’s back and restrains his flailing arms – now attempting to punch thin air – and pins them behind his back. He heaves Claude off of a listless Kurtis, who shouts nonsensically. Claude jerks from the confines of Skeeter’s bulky frame – incensed and distraught.

Skeeter turns his attention to the inebriated man on the floor – his chin scraped from Claude’s rings and his cheek purpling. Skeeter hoists him up as he sluggishly twists and turns in his clutches, still trying to get at Claude – “C’mere you fuckin’ pussy.”

Skeeter roughly jostles him out of the room, a hand clamped over his mouth; Claude slams the door shut behind them – dropping his head against it. His heart claws at his chest.

He turns and sees Sid perched on the corner of his wrecked bed. His legs hang over, his bare feet hover above the floor – his eyes cast downward. The moonlight filters through the window, bathing Sid in its paleness. He looks doleful – and – _so small_ ; Claude’s devastation mounts. 

He falls to his knees, inches his body in-between Sid’s parted legs, gently strokes his palms up and down his thighs.

“Sid?”

…

He swallows; tries again, “Sid?”

…

He presses his temple against Sid’s, “Sweetheart?”

Sid slides off the bed, folds himself into Claude. Claude hugs him tight, places kiss after kiss atop his head, and says, “You never have to come back here. We never have to see him again. I promise.”

Claude moves out a week later.

______

Claude tightens his hold on Sid and rolls them over. He drags their bodies down, sheets in tow, and braces himself over Sid, _searching_.  His hands are splayed on either side of Sid’s head, boxing him in; Claude’s chest heaves. Sid looks up at him with those doe eyes, the ones that make Claude’s knees unsteady. His dark curls are a sweaty mop atop his head, his skin tinged a rosy pink. Sid turns his head and places a timid kiss on Claude’s forearm; he takes Claude’s hand, bravely presses the palm over his heart – it beats wildly.

Claude’s heart somersaults, flip-flops in his chest. 

_____

_January 2010_

Sid is wracked with nerves, lying half-naked on top of Claude’s covers.

It’s Claude’s 22nd birthday and they had ditched the celebration early at Sid’s urging.

“I wanna, I want you to..” Sid tries in aborted breaths. Every word seemed to be a struggle tonight. 

Claude backed him up against the wall and took a hold of one wrist; he tilted Sid’s chin up with the other. 

“Sid?”

He closes his eyes, “I wanna feel you.”

Claude steps back, Sid’s eyes plead with him, bordering on desperation. Claude looks around his ratty apartment and his insides twist.

“Claude?” Sid prompts, his forehead creased in concern.

Claude swallows the lump in his throat, “You sure, sweetheart?” His voice sounds like gravel.

Sid nods and Claude lifts him up as his legs lock around his waist; he carries him to the edge of the bed. Claude carefully discards Sid’s dress-shirt, his slacks, his boxers – his hands never stop shaking.  

They don’t end up having sex that night – Sid’s too jittery, can’t stop talking. So Claude gives him his fingers.

Sid clings to his shoulders like a lifeline, raking his nails down Claude’s spine as he works his digits in a fast, ruthless pace. He sobs into Claude’s mouth – sinks his teeth into Claude’s neck as his orgasm crests.    

Sid smiles up at him afterwards, happy and flushed. Claude hides his face in Sid’s chest.

He combs his fingers through Claude’s orange curls and hooks a leg around his back – “Again.”

His request is met with an audible groan.

_____

Claude’s arms fold as he buries his head in the tiny space between Sid’s neck and shoulder. His hips begin to thrust in earnest as Sid immediately wraps his legs around Claude’s middle, and his arms in a loop around his neck. Sid turns his head; his heavy gaze rests on Claude’s face. Sid watches him work both of them over with his hard cock, his eyes barely blinking. Claude ignores him and continues to piston his hips. Sid burrows closer and licks a stripe from his jaw-line to his cheekbone.

Claude withdraws, angles his hips – drives back in; Sid lets out a scream.

_____

_April 2011_

“I’m so sorry, Claude” Sid whispers; his eyes are wet, his forehead pressed against Claude’s.

“No, no, no. It’s okay.” He rubs his palms up and down Sid’s sides as he shivers _._

It had been a milestone for Sid: his graduation after years of hard work – though it ended in an ugly fight.

Claude had overheard Sid’s muffled shouts behind closed doors, edging on rage, and his dad’s curt reprimands, their sense of finality jarring Claude out of his skin. Sid’s ire had eventually boiled over: _“Shut up! Shut up! You don’t know anything!”_

Claude felt sick.

“No it’s not,” Sid tells him, and Claude snaps back to the present.  “I love you,” he continues; Claude closes his eyes, hears Sid’s voice crack – “and he called you trash.”

“It’s okay” Claude murmurs again, _uselessly._

______

Sid grabs a fistful of Claude’s ass with each hand, squeezing hard in encouragement as Claude strikes that secret bundle of nerves again and again. Claude drowns in Sid’s cries; an “Ah” being punched out with each drag of Claude’s dick.

“Oh God, I can’t! I can’t!” Sid shouts as Claude picks up the pace, squirming in his hold; his body jerks away from the onslaught. 

“Shh. You can” Claude soothes. He cups Sid’s face, and doesn’t let up – fucks him through it until Sid’s body undulates and bucks off the bed, coming in spurts. Sid tightens their tangled limbs as Claude empties himself in Sid soon after; his body boneless as he slumps into Sid’s sticky embrace.

                                                                                                ______

Sid brushes his cheeks back and forth against the scraggy patch of hair beneath Claude’s jaw as he chuckles above him, “Don’t hurt yourself.”

“Shut up” Sid pouts, “It’s sexy. You’ve never had one before.”

“I uh, started letting it grow out a few years ago.”

Sid looks up at him; his face has finally filled out, his baby fat replaced by sharp lines and hard muscle, his nose somehow bigger, his lips still plump – he’s _breathtaking –_ and Claude can barely stand it.

“Oh.”

They lie together on Claude’s bed and Sid hasn’t allowed an inch between them.

“You’re different” he tells Claude, climbing on top of him. Claude rolls over onto his back to accommodate the shift of their bodies – “And you’re heavy” Claude responds.

Sid’s eyes bore into him and Claude’s skins suddenly on fire, his brain fizzles – despite what they’ve spent the last hour doing.

“You still love me?” Sid asks, eyes softening.

Claude averts his eyes – feels them grow hot – feels his entire being _burst_ with unadulterated affection. He gathers Sid’s hands in his own – “You’re the love of my life.”

Sid covers Claude’s mouth with his own in reply.

_____

 

 

 

 

_End_

**Author's Note:**

> Comments/feedback mean the world!


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